Brennan's Lost Childhood
by bobthetree123
Summary: Noone ever really knew what happened in Brennan's childhood, except for Brennan herself. What really happened all those years ago? I know it's a popular story path but please give it a chance
1. Memories Of A Child

ok, so this is a new story im trying. Basically its the story on Brennan's childhood that nobody has any clue about, and so hopefully i can create it. Im not sure if it will work but I'm giving it a shot. Now, to some people this first chapter might be really boring, but i promise you, the next and later chapters will be better.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bones

For everyone's information, just so you don't get confused, this chapter isn't from Brennan's ACTUAL POV, i mean, she's not really eye-witness - its sort of like she's describing the past. It sounds confusing but hopefully it will make sense. The later chapters will be from her actual POV.

Hope you enjoy.

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I was born in 1976 to max and Ruth Keenan. They named me Joy, after the joyful smile on my face, and the sparkle in my eyes. My brother Kyle was ecstatic to have someone to hold. He was only four years old, but he acted like I was a special toy – he was always looking out for me, wanting to hold me.

They dressed me in shapeless clothes, sat a knitted hat on my head, and slapped a dummy in my mouth. After a month of being born, I was already sick of all the smiling, staring faces, all buzzing over me like I was the newest piece of clothing, or a piece of chocolate. I didn't like it – I just wanted to be alone.

But as much as I wanted alone, I wanted my mother. She was the one who got rid of the staring crowd if she could tell O wanted them away. I had learnt to scrunch up my eyes if I wanted peace. I was a fast learner.

My mother and I had many memorable moments. She would take me out into the backyard, and sit on the tire swing under the lemon tree, softly singing me my favourite lullaby.

_Hush hush, dear, close your eyes_

_And let me sing you a lullaby_

_About clouds and hills and grazing sheep_

_And soon, with them in your mind you will sleep._

The lullaby always worked, and I would be asleep at the third line. This happened most afternoons, and once I was asleep, Ruth would sit there in the breeze, and stay there until I woke up, careful to make sure nothing happened to me. It was my mother who influenced me. She introduced me to the dolphin, and ever since she did the dolphin was my favourite toy, and I would cuddle it every night when I went to bed. My mother smiled as she saw her two of her favourite things together – a dolphin and her daughter.

I as also with my father a lot. He liked to make silly faces, and I would clap my hands and try to hold his nose. He would laugh and wave his fingers in front of me.

But after eight months, my parents started to go away, and I was left with the nanny, who sung the same lullaby as my mother, but it wasn't the same. I ended up in tears, screaming out my silent words to my mother. But she didn't come back some days, only dad did. But I couldn't voice my thoughts, so I had to endure the loneliness in agony.

My brother Kyle did everything he could. He played with me almost everyday. He made me smile when my parents weren't there, and he would run around, with me trying to crawl after him. I was a fast learner, and soon learned all his tricks of his circling running pattern, and so cut him off. He was amazed at my learning ability, and told his mother. But I was silent.

My first birthday was a disaster. My dad had bought a train cake – I didn't even like trains! The room was too crowded, and soon I was screaming for space, and my mother took me outside, hushing me in her soft voice.

A few days after my first birthday, I took my first steps. It was easy, like second nature. I was so glad I didn't have to crawl everywhere now – I had a new source of transport!

The years went by. Not too long after my walking I started to talk. Now my parents had heard me, they were truly amazed at my ability. My vocabulary expanded, and at two years I could talk staggered sentences – only using the basic "mama" and "papa" mind you. But I was happy. I could finally communicate.

My life was pretty good. I had many happy memories, and I had a big collection of dolphins. My only troubling memory was that windy summer afternoon.

Kyle was on the swing. I was in my mother's arms, watching him. My dad came out from the house, and went over to Kyle. He stopped the swing.

"Son, I need you to listen to me. You are no longer Kyle Keenan – you are now Russ Brennan."

"But why, Dad?"

"I tell you when you're older, son. Now just repeat after me. Russ Brennan. Russ Brennan. Russ Brennan."

"Russ Brennan. Russ Brennan. Russ Brennan."

"Good, son! Now, if anyone asks, my name is Matthew Brennan, and your mum here is Christine, and your sister, Temperance. Is that clear?"

"Ok, but why?"

"Never mind. When you're older. Now let me push you on the swing!"

Nothing more was said after that incident. My parents called us by our new names, never saying why or bringing up the change. I quickly forgot that moment, as they were replaced with happier, more joyful memories.

Before I knew it, I was 4 years old, and my vocabulary had expanded immensely. My parents and all there friends were shocked, yet excited. They knew I would grow up to be a smart child.

And then it was the day before I was doomed to start school. I was very nervous, and talked to my mum.

"Mummy, why do I have to go? Can't I stay here with you?"

My mother stroked my deep brown locks out of my face. "You'll be fine, honey. Take your dolphin with you."

I still had my dolphin – the dolphin I'd had since birth. It had become my good luck omen, and I took it everywhere with me. I planned to take it the next day. "You might even make some friends!" she said, trying to console me. I nodded glumly, and walked to my room.

The next day mum dressed me in my uniform. I disliked it at once. She filled my black backpack with snacks and books, and tied up my shoes, then kissed me on the head.

"You'll be catching the school bus with Russ. He'll show you where to go." Russ had been going to school for a few years now, and came to hold my hand as we walked out of the door.

On the bus, everyone was whispering about me, the new kid. Until Russ spoke up. "Yeah, guys, this is my little sister, Temperance. You make fun of her, you're facing me." Everyone was silent after that. Russ was always the friendly type, but he liked to make sure his little sister was safe.

The first day of school was disastrous. I was scrawnier then all the other kids and they made fun of me. I didn't talk to anyone, and no-one came to talk to me. The only person I liked was the teacher, and she was the only one who received my smile. I didn't try to be mean or anything, but I was just nervous. I didn't like chaos or meeting new people. I just wanted to be at home with Russ, my mum and my dad. Our perfect family.

After a few months at school, I had a friend, Julie. She was polite, and though I didn't talk very much, we soon became very close. She asked about the dolphin I always carried around either in my hands or in my backpack. I told her it was a gift from my mother. She showed me her own gift omen – a giraffe, which she too held close. We became the best of friends, and our lunch times were often either filled with chatter or silence. She had a few friends as well, and she introduced me to them. I became close to them, too, but not as close as Julie. I knew that she would always be my friend.

My class work was neat, and I was often top of the class – especially in colouring. I had never been one for art, but I was the only one in my class who could colour inside the lines – not that that was really much of an achievement.

A few years went past. I made more friends, though I never had many more then three or four really close ones, including Julie. But I felt loved. Not in a way like my family, but loved like I felt included in the world, and not just an outcast. But as much as I felt loved, I also felt kind of lonely. Some days I wouldn't say anything at all, and for no reason. I wasn't angry at anyone or anything. But inside I just felt lonely, even though I was surrounded by my friends. The only person who could really bring me out of my shell was Julie, and I would be brought back to the real world of friends and life. She didn't comment on my silence, and accepted it, which I was grateful for.

But I knew that the troubles in my life were still to come. I was coming dangerously close to third grade – and it had been rumoured that the third grade was the grade where everyone made fun of you. I knew that I would be a main target – I was still very thin, and my brown hair was long down my back. I as the typical 'nerd'. But I didn't care. This was how I was, and if nobody accepted me that way, then that was fine.

But as long as I had my dolphin, I was happy.

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Please review and tell me what you think, whether its worth continuing. As i said, the next chapters will be better - i just had to start from the beginning. So, yea, please click that little green button and write a comment, idea, critical comment, anything.

Thanks for reading!

P.s. Julie's little toy is a giraffe coz im obssessed with giraffes. Little bit of trivia for you there!


	2. Always Alone

Hi.

Sorry it's been so long, but i've been working on a different story.

Now i've tried not to make this story boring - i know it's a very popular story route. But I'll try to get this as .... 'un-boring' as I can, but I do have to stick to the facts. So please bear with me, and fell free to correct me in any way.

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I hated primary school immediately. More kids joined the school, and I became the immense target. They made fun of me, of my unnatural learning ability, my silence, and the fact I didn't have many friends. Julie and her group began to drift away, being introduced to others, thinking they didn't need me anymore.

I had never felt so alone in my life.

My teacher picked on me. He was a fat, bald man who hated kids who got an answer correct. Unfortuantely, I was nearly always right, and this made him furious.

My brother began to tell that I hated school. I never talked to him when I came home, and though he tried to cheer me up, nothing worked. I withdrew into my shell even more. It was becoming my near-permanent home, and it would take someone very close to pull me out.

So instead Russ would skip classes, coming over to the classroom window and knocking on it softly when the teacher's back was turned. I sat near the back, and was nearest to the window – I loved sunshine. He would open it a smidge, poke his head through, and make sure the teacher was still distracted. Then he would whisper "Marco". At first I was confused. I furrowed my eyebrows at him and cocked my head, trying to make him understand that I didn't know what he was talking about. He shook his head and left, ducking his head below the window and scurring away. I felt a great sense of loss when he had gone. For 2 minutes I had felt happy.

I talked to Julie at lunch, told her about Russ's actions. She explained that when someone said 'Marco', the correct response was 'Polo'. Russ was making sure he knew his sister was safe and happy. I vowed that next time he said "Marco," I would be ready.

I was in luck. That afternoon during lessons, his head once more appeared in the window. He whispered once more. "Marco!"

This time I knew the answer. "Polo!"

Russ smiled. He was filled with joy. I could see it in his eyes. He was glad I understood the game. I grinned in return, and then quickly faced the front whe the teacher called my name.

During that year, I was alone. Julie left me for the 'in' crowd. Girls who wore make-up, listened to music, wore fancy jewellrey. I felt rejected. During the day I hardly ever said a word. My only smile would be when I heard Russ whisper "Marco". Sometimes the only word I ever said all day was "Polo."

It stayed the same all during primary school. A few people tried to befriend me, but I was so used to rejection now I pushed them away. During class people tried to talk to me, being polite and friendly, but I hardly ever said a word in return. Believing I wanted to be left alone, no-one came near me. Personally, I didn't mind. I liked to have space, to have air to breath. When I was surrounded by a large group of friends I was trying to crawl to the surface for air.

But there was one person I tried to befriend. His name was Tom Myers. He was a handsome boy, twelve, the same age as me. He had dark brown hair which fell loosely pasthis ears. He had a well-developed face that any girl would fall for.

Which is exactly what happened.

As soon as he began school, the 'popular' girls were all over him. I never got a chance to speak to him, and he never came over to introduce himself, either. I presumed everyone else had told him about my silent and possessive nature to keep to myself. What would a guy like him want with me anyway?

And then I blew it.

He asked me to the school dance. But I was so used to pushing people away that I automatically said no. He looked hurt, and immediately regretted my words. I tried to talk to him, but he was embarrased. I felt ashamed. I actually had a chance to go dancing with someone I liked, and I blew my chance.

_Well done, Tempe._

The night of the dance I stayed in my room, curled in a ball, crying my eyes out. Russ came in to see what was wrong, putting his arms around me, hugging me. I didn't object. It was good to have someone close to me. It felt nice. Yet unnatural.

I was still top of the class, winning awards in many competitions. But somehow I didn't feel like I exceled at anything or achieved anything. I felt empty, as though every award just dug a deeper hole. I didn't understand the feeling, and ignored it for many years.

Many, many years.

*

She started science in high school.

She finally felt she excelled at something.

She remembered the feeling when her science teacher introduced her to the microscope. Everyone else in the class had trouble adjusting the lense, or finding the glass blury. But she got it right away, and enjoyed it immensly. She was fascinated by the tiny little particles, and familiarized herself with them.

She looked forward to every science lesson.

Here she could be lost in a world of bugs, dirt, or chemicals and not have to give a care to the world or the people around her. She floated into another dimension, focusing only on the objects in front of her.

This was where she belonged.

She was top of the class in all of her subjects, of course. Maths, English, geography, and history. She especially enjoyed her creative writing classes, and became lost to the feelings and worlds of fictional characters and unhuman places. She let loose her feelings and fantasies in her writing, and let her hand fly across the page for every story. Her pen became her best friend.

Her fifteenth birthday arrived quickly. Her parents bought her a micropscope to her delight, and expensive, high-quality one. She used it every day, collectiong particles from around the house and putting them on the canister. Her parents were glad that they had made her happy, something that didn't often happen.

And then her parents began to act strangely. They began to be more flighty around them, jumping at every knock on the door or turning their heads at every pasisng car. I had no idea what made them so jumpy, and didn't want to pry. I never was one for snooping. Maybe they had just had a fright in the car on the way home from work or something. I didn't let it bother my mind. I had more important things to worry about, like the upcoming exam in Biology.

The house got colder. Winter was arriving. Snow. Christmas. One of my favourite times of the year. Every morning I would come down, give my parents a hug, grab a slice of tost and head for the schoolbus, slugging through the thickening snow. They were always there, these days, not going away for a week like they used to. I loved their presence – it made the house feel like a home.

I ws counting down teh days untilt eh celebration. 20th December. I dressed and ran downstaris, awaiting my toast. I ran to the lounge room where mum usually sits, drinking her coffee and reading the newspaper. But her seat was empty.

No big deal.

I spent five minutes wandering around the house, trying to find my mother. But she was not to be found. Nor my dad. I tried Russ's bedroom, and gladly found him. He didn't know where they were, but told me not to worry, as they were probably out for a walk or down at the shops. I didn't believe him, and knew that he himself doubted his lie, but didn't pursue it. We both hopped on the schoolbus, though I was still concerned.

I started to panic when I arrived home. It would often occur that one parent wasn't home, but both of them were gone. The house was vacant. It felt strangely large, empty. I called out, shouting for my parents, but got no response. Russ tired to calm me, but it didn't work.

It was fast approaching Christmas. I hadn't seen my parents for three days. Now even Russ believed that we shoudl start panicking. We called the police, apologizing as it was so close to Christmas. They agreed to search around, but couldn't promise much staff because of the holidays.

I ran to my room, and burst into tears, great big sobs streaming down my face. Russ joined my, salty tears joining mine. We held each otehr for ten minutes, each trying to console the other. But our words sounded false.

By Christmas day I was a wreck. I woke up, hoping by every miracle that they would be back, waiting with coffee. I drowsily went to the door, and saw lights on down the stairs. My eyes widened, and I sprinted downt he stairs. Bright light twinkled from the living room, and tinsel sparkled from a bright green tree. My eyes moved to the couch, expecting my parents.

I nearly collapsed with shock.

Russ was sitting on the couch, a huge grin on his face. I stagegred backwads and crumpled to the floor. I had bene hoping for my parents, a miracle. Russ had tried the best he could, but it could never be good enough. I could see the grin evaporating, and tried to smile.

"Thankyou, Russ."

"Merry Christmas, Temperance," he said in return, but the Christmas was anything but merry. Russ drove to the store and bought a turkey, trying to cook a Christmas meal for me. He was trying to be as supportive as he could, and I had to tell him that he was good enough for me. He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

We were silent the whole day. Russ, especially, who was usually the one trying to lighten the mood, was quiet. I took the gifts from underneath the tree, but didn't open them. Instead I took them up to my room, and hid them under my bed, a place I never used for storage. I knew I could never open them.

A few days after Christmas, Russ announced he was leaving. I was stoked, and unable to speak. He didn't say any more, instead packed his bags and threw them into his car. I demanded he tell me what was going on. He was old enough. He could look after me. But he refused, knowing he could never be a good enough father. He made me pack my bags and most prized possessions, and placed me in the car. He explained what was happening.

"I talked to our grandparents. They're on a cruise and won't be back for months. I'm taking you into foster care."

He didn't say any more, instead drove me to the foster home. I was silent, horrified. My brother, my brother who supported and loved me every way he could, was deserting me because he didn't believe he was good enough. I became furious at him, but didn't emit my anger.

He didn't say any more, just hugged me, kissed my head, and walked out.

I was left all alone.

I was always alone.

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Please press that little green button down the bottom. Surely if you had time to read this story, you have 30 seconds extra to write something about it - whether good, bad, criticising, advice, comments, anything would be great. It really makes my day, and if i get a few reviews, it'll make me write quicker. So please review, guys.

Thankyou for reading my story.


	3. ColdHearted

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bones

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I shouted at the closed door and threw a shoe at it. It slammed into the wood and bounced off, landing on the floor. I sighed and lay back onto the bed. This was getting worse each time.

I remembered the blank, over-bright look of the receptionist at the foster home. She had smiled at me, and said that everything was going to be fine.

No, it wouldn't. Nothing would ever be the same again.

_I walked into the bright white Foster Care center. I stared around me. Young children and teenagers glared back at me, like observing an animal in a petting zoo. The social worker led me to the desk._

"_Welcome, sweetie. And what's your name?"_

_I scoffed at the false voice and smile. "Temperance."_

"_Welcome, Temperance. I hope you will feel at home here."_

_How old did she think I was, ten?_

"_Where's my room?" I asked curtly. I wasn't usually this stubborn but I really wasn't feeling too good. My parents had abandoned me. My brother had abandoned me. And now I had to live with people who felt sorry for me. What a life._

_The receptionist led me to my room. It was small and filled with 8 bunks. So I would be sharing. The other occupants of the room were already there, staring at me, looking me over, deciding if I was a threat or not._

_A thug, I assumed the 'leader' of the room walked over to me. She extended a hand. "I'm Kat. I'm in charge here. This place sucks. You seem like a nice kid. Hopefully you'll be lucky and be out soon."_

"_Yeah, me too," I replied in a dead tone. "I already hate this place."_

"_So does everyone else," Kat replied._

_It turned out I didn't have to stay very long. The receptionist, Jane, came to me after a few days. "We've found you a home." She made it sound as though I was some sort of puppy._

_She led me out to a car. A woman was already in there – the social worker. She smiled and nodded at me. I nodded in return. _

_They drove me to a cottage. It looked as though it was from a fairy tale. It was small, brick, with vines climbing up the walls. It looked pretty. But I was always taught never to judge a book by its cover._

_My new 'parent's' seemed nice. The McGregor. My 'father' was a large man, buff, with a huge beer-belly. My 'mother' had hints of many sessions of plastic surgery, with dyed blonde hair. They were seemingly polite. But as soon as the social worker left, they snarled at me. _

"_You are a waste of money and space. If you disobey us, or do anything horrible, we'll send you back to that foster home. Understand?"_

_For some reason I wasn't afraid. I nodded, my head held sharply and high._

"_Good," the father said. "Go to your room."_

_I walked to my tiny hole that was now my room. There was hardly enough space for the bed. I threw my bag on it. I opened the door slightly and peered out. I could see my new parents making out in the lounge room. They moved to the couch and I quickly shut the door and leaned back onto it._

_I hated this life. I hated my parents for leaving me without warning. I hated my brother for leaving when he knew I needed help. I hated the social worker, I hated the McGregor's, and I hated the world._

_I slid down the door and curled around my knees. Tears fell down my cheeks and onto my chin. I would have to turn away my weakness, and appear strong. I could not let these people take over my life._

_I turned into a whole different person. I began to disobey my new parents, and, true to their word, they kicked me out of the house. I was forced to move back to the foster home. My roommates greeted me. Apparently many of them had been in that situation. They encouraged and congratulated me on my efforts to stand up to them._

_I began to change. I was moved to a new foster home. The Simon's. I was kicked out. The Newton's. The Angstrom's. The Fallow's. No matter how nice they were, I was determined to outdo them. I had to reach 18 before I could legally leave the foster system._

_That was only 6 months away._

_I began to make a list. I grabbed the pair of shoes I always wore, and found a pen. I began to write a list on the bottom of my shoe, where no-one would find it, but would be kept with me through life. I wrote the families I had been kicked out from. With each name I wrote, hate began to boil. I loathed these families who were trying to take me away from life. They were as false, unreal._

I grabbed the other shoe from below my bed and added to the list.

McDee.

The social worker came for me the next day. I was already packed – I didn't have many possessions; I hardly unpacked at each house. Soon I was back at the foster home, back to my familiar bed and roommates.

I lay on my bunk for the remainder the morning, and trudged out when the lunch bell rang.

Salad. As usual.

Bloody health freaks.

It was during lunch when Jane walked over to our table and said that an old couple was here to see me. I stood up, suspicious. I didn't want to live with some old couple.

I hadn't seen my grandparents for years. I felt as though I should have been relieved to be taken away by someone I knew, someone who cared for me. But I felt anger, the same anger I felt whenever I was told I would be taken to a new home.

I knew it wasn't fair, but I couldn't stop the fury rising through my blood. They could have come earlier; they could have stopped their cruise. I began to think of any excuse that could be made for their late arrival.

They were happy to see me. "Would you care to come home with us, Temperance?"

I knew I had no choice. I nodded and went to grab my bag.

I arrived at my grandparents' mansion. I knew that this would be one foster home that I would never be able to escape. But I only had to live here for 6 months, and then I could roam free.

They showed me to my room. It was huge. I began to feel as though I may settle down well here. My grandma sat on my bed with me.

"Do you know where my parents are, Gran?" I asked. My inner child began to seep out, and I sounded as pathetic as I did when I first entered the foster home.

"I haven't heard from them anytime after you did. I'm sorry, dear."

"Ok."

Over the course of a few days, I felt I was beginning to change back into my old self. I found it hard to trust anyone anymore since Russ left, but I was beginning to trust these people. I was no longer the cold and harsh person I had become, but the polite and caring person I once was.

Friday night was movie night. My grandfather introduced me to the Mummy series. I began to marvel at the study of the bones. It would be an interesting job choice, to study the remains of the deceased. And it would be hard.

But it was one to consider. I didn't have many choices to go on with, and a job in my life was something I would have to start thinking about.

An anthropologist would be interesting, and amazing. Studying decade- and millennium-old bones would be…indescribable.

I asked my Gran about it. "What would it take to be an anthropologist?" I asked her one night. I had thought a lot about it.

"Well, for one it would be hard work. There are a lot of bones in the human body, and you must know every one of them – well. But there is this big, high-tech place downtown called the Jeffersonian Institute which has anthropologists – maybe you could ask more about it there. Why, dear, are you interested?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Well, good on you. I think it would be a fine job for you to do. I have a friend who's a pathologist, maybe I could talk to her for you. She must know an anthropologist _somewhere._"

"Thanks, Gran." I kissed her goodnight and went upstairs.

After my shower, I looked into the mirror. I had turned into quite a nice girl. I was glad I wasn't rough and cold-hearted any more. It didn't suit me.

I looked better then I had since being at other foster homes. I no longer had bags under my eyes, my shoulder-length brown hair was shiny and cut in layers, and my eyes were bright. My skin shone with health and I was skinny in a natural way.

I felt great.

The last thing I did before I went to bed was throw my old shoe up into the far top corner of my wardrobe.

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Please review and tell me what you think. Hope you enjoyed it on some level.


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